A Shoulder to Cry On
by Zalanor
Summary: Companion to The Serpent Becomes A Lion. Narcissa Malfoy was hurt and traumatised by Lucius. She needs a shoulder to cry on.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: A Shoulder To Cry On**

Narcissa Malfoy was finding life hard. Her husband, her wealth, and her social status were gone. No more could she spend her days in luxury, living in a manor, while a Gringotts vault sat filled with Galleons. Now, the vault looked more like that of the Weasleys, Draco's Hogwarts letters were addressed to "Room 8, The Leaky Cauldron, London", and she had to work for a living. The only place she could find work was Twilfitt and Tattings, the more up-market alternative to Madam Malkin's.

For eight hours a day she would serve the witches that came in to the shop, who either ignored her or treated her as their inferior, which she came to realise had been exactly how she had treated others. The only good things in her life were her letters from Draco, and her conversation with Quentin Hardacre. Quentin was one of the male assistants in the shop. They had been at Hogwarts at the same time, but they had never met because he had been in Hufflepuff.

Quentin had light brown wavy hair, soft grey eyes, and a warm tone of voice that brought out something in Narcissa's heart. She tried to deny it at first, but it was there - the desire to confide her troubles in him, and to be embraced by him while he told her that everything was going to be alright. Her desires built up within her to the point that Narcissa felt she would burst if she didn't say something. So she waited for the opportune moment. It came sooner than she thought.

A couple of days later, after the shop had closed for the evening, Mr Twilfitt left Narcissa and Quentin with the task of stock taking. In the softly lit and silent storeroom, Narcissa drew in a deep breath before asking the question she hardly dared to. "Quentin, can I tell you something? Something personal?" "Sure, if you want to. You have my word that I won't tell anyone. My lips are sealed." She drew in another breath, but this time it was shallow and faltering. "My… my husband… Lucius.. he… he beat me. Me and Draco both." She wanted to say more, but couldn't, the emotions she had been suppressing for so long burst out of her in a flood of tears. Almost instantly, she felt Quentin's arms around her, surrounding her with his warmth.

They stood there for a few minutes, but to her it seemed like hours. Quentin's right arm briefly moved from around her shoulders, and she heard the faint click of the shop door lock before she felt the familiar squeezing of Apparition. She turned to look at her new surroundings. She was in a warmly decorated living room. The furniture looked comfortable and inviting, completely unlike that of Malfoy Manor, which had been cold, dark, and unwelcoming. That had merely been a house, but this was a home.

Quentin drew her down to sit onto a battered grey sofa, that turned out to be one of the most comforting things she had ever sat on. There she poured out to him what her life had been like when Lucius was in it. How he had been friendly and romantic, right up until their wedding night, when he became cold and unfeeling. If they appeared in public together he had maintained the illusion of civility, but in private she was treated almost as badly as he treated their house elf. The only time he became the man she had loved was when she was pregnant with Draco. As soon as he was born, the romance was gone again. It would never return, for Lucius had his heir, which was all he had cared about.

As soon as Draco was old enough, Lucius began trying to turn him into a miniature version of himself, full of hate and vitriol to be directed at any who were "inferior". Questioning him or deviation from the teaching resulted in beatings. Whenever she protested or tried to protect her son, she was beaten too. On rare occasions, Lucius had Imperiused her to beat Draco herself.

Narcissa only stopped talking when her voice failed her. She was shaking in her grief, but she came to realise that for the entire time she had been speaking, Quentin had not let go. She was still in his arms. And she liked it. But she was also tired. She barely felt Quentin drape a woollen blanket around them before she fell asleep, but as she did, she heard Quentin say "Sleep, Narcissa. I'm here for you, and I won't leave. You're safe now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Start of Romance**

The next morning, Narcissa awoke to the smells of fresh tea, hot buttered toast, and porridge. For a moment she forgot where she was, and wondered why she was covered with a knitted blanket and lying on a threadbare sofa. Then she saw Quentin, her confidant and comforter, and she remembered. "Good morning, Narcissa," Quentin said in his warm voice. "I hope you slept well. There's porridge and toast for breakfast, with jam, marmalade, and honey if you want them." He walked over to her and put a mug of tea down on the coffee table in front of her. Narcissa drank the coffee as she collected her thoughts. It was, as it was whenever Quentin made it for them during a break at Twilfitt and Tattings, exactly how she liked it - a rich but yet somehow light brown, almost the sweetness of honey, and an underlying hint of vanilla.

As she drank her tea, she watched him prepare their breakfast. Curiously, he did it without using his wand even once, for it was on the other side of the small kitchen area from him, and he made no sign of picking it up. This puzzled Narcissa, so she asked the obvious question. "Quentin, why aren't you using magic for that?" Once again, her heart fluttered as Quentin turned and smiled at her. "Just because I can use magic for everything, doesn't mean I should. If I did use magic for absolutely everything, it would eventually be unhealthy for me." Narcissa was still confused, so Quentin carried on. "Imagine a wizard who uses magic for absolutely everything. He'd be fatter than a pig! Why would he bother with physical activity when he can Apparate to travel, use Summoning Charms to bring him things, _Locomotor _or _Wingardium Leviosa _to move things, and a dozen other spells for anything else? Besides, there are some things that magic can't do - make breakfast, for example. Speaking of which, it's ready."

As Narcissa ate, she pondered Quentin's words. Not using magic for things was the exact opposite of how she had been raised and her time with Lucius. If magic couldn't accomplish something, that was what the house elf was for. But not everyone had a house elf, she had to concede, and the breakfast was delicious. When they'd finished, Quentin cleaned the breakfast things and put them away, again without using magic, before taking hold of Narcissa's hand and drawing her into a hug. "Today is all about you, Narcissa. Today is the first day of what your life should have been. This is what romance should be." With a soft _pop_, they Apparated away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Day of Love**

The day was a whirlwind for Narcissa. She saw and experienced things that she had never seen or done before. Quentin took her on a tour of Europe, gently showing her what true romance was like. In France, they danced on the viewing platform of the Eiffel Tower. In Italy, they rode in a gondola along the canals of Venice while the gondolier serenaded them. In the Netherlands, Quentin bought her a beautiful bouquet of tulips and roses. Then they went back to Italy for lunch, and Narcissa ate one of the finest meals she'd ever had. The rest of the day was spent by Quentin showing her the beauty of Rome and Paris. During her tour, Quentin insisted on buying her clothes. "In some Muggle circles, you can get away with dressing in gowns and robes, but they're mostly for extremely formal occasions. You need some Muggle clothes, Narcissa. As much as you might want to, we can't exist entirely separately from them."

As loath as she was to admit it to herself, Narcissa conceded Quentin had a point. The Muggles had been giving her strange looks all day. Quentin had explained to her about how the Muggles were starting to put cameras everywhere to help with security and law enforcement. Witnesses to magic could be Obliviated, but cameras couldn't. They'd noticed all the owls that had flown about during the day when You-Know, no, Voldemort, had appeared to have been destroyed following Harry Potter becoming the Boy-Who-Lived. It was slowly becoming harder for magic to hide.

The day ended back on the Eiffel Tower, which had a restaurant in it. They ate their evening meal there, and Narcissa was expecting that they would go back to Quentin's flat immediately after the meal. However, he had one more surprise for her. Once they'd got away from any Muggle eyes, he told her to close her eyes, then wrapped his arms around her once more. She felt a succession of pops that meant they'd Apparated at least a dozen times before he let go of her and said she could open her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped in wonder. They were standing in a field in the middle of nowhere, and the night sky above them was filled with stars. As she stared, a shooting star went past. When she turned to look at Quentin, he was standing a few feet behind her, not staring at the sky, but at her. "The view's even more beautiful from where I'm standing." She was confused. "How is that possible?" "Because from where I'm standing, you're in it." With that, her heart melted in her chest. She didn't care what people thought or said, she wanted to be with him, now and forever. Slamming into him, she tackled him to the ground and kissed him passionately. "Don't call me Narcissa any more, Quentin. Call me Cissy. Now, let's go home. I want to thank you properly for what you've done for me, and I don't want to do it in a field."

From his starlit smile, she could see that he knew what she meant. And with a pop, they were gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: THIS IS THE SEXUAL CHAPTER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**Chapter 4: The Night of Passion**

With a pop, they were back in Quentin's, no, their apartment. It was dark now, but a wave of his wand and some candles flew out of a drawer and lit themselves, setting cosy light flickering about. Slowly, occasionally breaking apart from kissing and caressing to pause for breath, they made their way to the bedroom. It was small and plain, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that they both fitted on the bed. For several minutes, their hands roamed over clothes, each learning the contours and textures of the other's body. Their mouths were less daring in their explorations, but they grew bolder as clothes were shed.

Narcissa was in ecstasy. They'd hardly started and already she was feeling things that Lucius had never made her feel. Quentin wasn't focused only on his pleasure and enjoyment, he wanted her to experience it on the same level him! His touch, somehow both firm and gentle at the same time, changing as her body responded to it, sent ripples of need and desire across her skin. She could feel the firmness of his muscles, and the strength in them, but also the softness of comfort. She wanted him, oh, how she wanted him! And then his mouth left hers, which caused a moment of disappointment, only for it to be swept away by larger waves of pleasure, as she felt it in a place which hadn't known the sensation in a long time. Lucius had never touched her like this! She hadn't known that she could feel like this!

She could feel him pressing against her, and the heat building up in her told her that she was ready. But the sensation she was expecting didn't come. Instead, it was the feeling of his mouth on her, sending seizures of pleasure through her body, causing her to clench the sheets in her fists so hard that the skin on her fingers turned as white as snow, wrenching screams of joy from her throat, as she lay there with her eyes closed, feeling them roll back into her head, as she was lost in the moment.

Shortly, the new pleasure ended, and she moaned not in pleasure, but in sadness. She wanted more. Then there was a moment of pain, and she could feel firmness within her, but not the firmness she was expecting. It was far too flexible, and seemed to be in more than one spot at the same time. Opening her eyes, she looked at Quentin to see that while his left hand was still caressing her, his right was touching her in a far more intimate way. She lay there, gazing into his eyes, now utterly devoted to him. If he asked, she would marry him in a heartbeat.

Nothing else mattered to her, only the pleasure, the rhythmic movement of their conjoined bodies and their warmth. The air was filled with soft moans and the scent of their union, which only drove them deeper into their frenzied passion. It carried on, the rhythmic movement, almost metronomic in its tempo, but accelerated, and carried on accelerating, almost till Narcissca felt she was going explode with the passion she was experiencing, until she did with a loud shout of his name. And it suddenly stopped.

A few minutes later when she could think clearly, and her breathing had slowed somewhat, Quentin was looking at her, his expression silently asking the question "More?" She nodded eagerly. He leant over her, embraced her, so that she could feel his heartbeat as much as she could feel her own. Then they were united once more, and the mind of reason was lost to the animal of lust and desire.

Once more, his firmness was within her, and this time it was larger in all dimensions. Their heartbeats slowly built back up to the mad pounding, hammering within their chests. It escalated till she could hardly take it any more, but then it stopped suddenly. The warmth was still there, but Quentin's firmness was not. She didn't care though. She now knew and believed with every fibre of her being, the promise he had made her the previous night: "I'm here for you, and I won't leave. You're safe now." Once more, she fell asleep in his arms, as she would continue to do for the rest of their lives.

_Fin._


End file.
